There's a moment, at the start of each day, in which everything is right with the world. There exists in it no pain from the past and no fear of the future. There is zero regret and not an inkling of loss. There is not one worry of what the days or weeks or months may bring. And there is no list of things that must get done. There is only the Blissful Now, the fleeting moment that lasts for a fraction of a second before disappearing into a mist of frenzied thoughts. The predictability of its comings and goings is equaled only by that which comes immediately thereafter. The growing noise of the awakened brain manifesting much like the chugging of a train as it quickly approaches. The loud sounds of love unspoken, potential unfulfilled, connection unrealized and peace lost all work in concerted effort to make the now disappear into something other than bliss. Often, my chest feels constricted with uneasiness that rapidly morphs into dread. In this moment, there is but one choice to make. Get up. And then another choice: Push through. And then another: Make adjustments. And finally: Change. It is indeed a process, this navigation through life with a seemingly endless series of choices. I've known for some time now that the physical discomfort that comes with this is my body's way of signaling to the rest of me that something needs to change. It strikes me that longing is my soul's way of pointing me in the direction of my aliveness. With that, each day becomes an opportunity to go forth in that direction…. or not. For many years, I did the latter, but having lived for over a half a century, it has finally become clear that remaining still or retreating are not viable options. Not moving forward is easy. It requires no action or energy but it is taxing, all the same. Doing nothing is debilitating and draining and so far removed from my aliveness that a part of me, and sadly the most authentic part of me, eventually will die a slow death without action. Get up. Check. Push through. Check. Make adjustments. Trying. Change. Hoping. Easier said that done, I know, but fortunately, we are gifted with helpers along the way. I "met" a man six years ago, merely over the phone while at work on a Saturday despite our office hours being Monday through Friday. I was helping him with a matter regarding his business and he was so surprised I was working on a Saturday that we ended up having an extended conversation about work ethic and dreams and pursuing a career that resonates with one's values and spirit. He left corporate America to start a business which entailed travel and adventure. I got the sense that, beyond exploring the world, what he loved was connecting with people from all walks of life. He seemed to take great joy in introducing others to the treasures he had discovered as he ventured off to Africa in regular intervals. As I listened to his words, I felt a pang of intense envy that he had figured out this piece of life while I was still struggling with identifying what my path was to be. I realized quickly though that any jealousy I felt was tempered by my shear delight in hearing his story of hope, in knowing that this was not always how it was going to be for me and in the celebration of the evolution of this man. There was something in having shared a moment of Blissful Now with him. A powerful something that made me reach out to him and thank him for reminding me to heed the magnetic pull in the direction of fulfillment. He responded graciously with beautifully strung-together words of encouragement and validation, for which I held and still hold much gratitude. He has a social media presence and through it, I am often reminded of that day, when he took a few moments to gift me a glimpse into what's possible. His generosity has stayed with me as has his kindly delivered advice which was perfectly balanced between practicality and inspiration. As I continue to go confidently in the direction of my dreams, as Henry David Thoreau suggests, I appreciate the journey, the helpers and the choices. Here's to safe travels for you, for me and for the relative stranger who impacted my life one Saturday at the office.
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